Chaith Mageborn
Chaith Mageborn is a Tiefling Bladesinger, born in Torchpoint and raised in the Blackwood forest before making his way to Ebonveil to work as a servant to support his wife and child. He learned his Bladesinger skills by closely watching those he served. After his daughter's mysterious death, he hunts those responsible for revenge. __TOC__ History Chaith Mageborn was sired in the town of Torchpoint in northern Drakefall. At the time all races, including Tieflings, were accepted among the people in charge in the small town. But by the time Chaith was learning to walk, the power in the town had changed hands and the new leadership did not like the demon-born in their town. And so as they were anointed, so were the Tieflings excommunicated into the wilds of the Drakefall continent. From Torchpoint to Blackwood His family and the other Tieflings and other "less desirable" races who were looking for refuge after being kicked out of Torchpoint, largely ended up creating their own settlement on the outskirts of the Blackwood. Their contact with the Elves of Ebonveil was all but inevitable at this point. Once contact with the nearby Elves was made, an understanding was agreed upon. As long as their camp didn't encroach too deeply into the Blackwood and toward Ebonveil then there would be no issue and as such a symbiotic relationship was born. Chaith in the meantime, had grown into an adolescent and quickly grew infatuated, as young boys do, with a young Tiefling girl named Helena Ironmend. Helena was the daughter of a Tiefling blacksmith who had traveled with the rest of them during the excommunication and eventually warmed up to Chaith and began to return the interest. As their relationship blossomed from awkward friendship to first love, the relationship between the Tiefling camp and the elves of Ebonveil too began to evolve. As time went on, the Elves and the Tieflings bargained for trade. The Tieflings who had learned to live off of the forest were allowed to trade with the Elven markets of Ebonveil to sell their pelts and meat, granting them access to the city itself if for only moments long enough for the transactions. A Life In Ebonveil Soon even this agreement evolved further. Many Tieflings, more suited for the protection of a city than the tents and huts of their makeshift settlement in the Blackwood, took work in the prominent Eladrin houses of Ebonveil as low ranking servants. Paid meager wages and allowed to live in the one-room houses on the outskirts of Ebonveil or in the servant quarters of their employers, more and more of the Torchwood refuges moved into Ebonveil and entered servitude to the Elves of Ebonveil. Chaith followed suit, by this time he and Helena were married and expecting a child. A city, even one in which he could never be seen as an equal, was a better place for he and his new family. While many regarded him and the two horns on his forehead with disdain, the Tiefling managed to carve out a humble existence. This was largely due to the fact that he possessed some skill with cooking. Indeed, his talents were recognized by many as word spread from seedy tavern, to village inn, to reputable establishment, all the way to within the walls of the great Elven Houses. It was not Chaith’s knowledge of seasonings or family recipes that made him famous, but his flourishes with knives. He could cut the most delicate slices without looking. He could send a cleaver clear across the room and still manage to cut through bone. He could prepare meals blindfolded. Chaith’s cutlery talents were soon appraised by Kaelian Ryn’la, son of Zenfai Ryn’la. The Ryn’la family headed one of the main Houses of Ebonveil. The Ryn’la House was comprised of Endarin, or “High Elves.” The request to come and work for Master Kaelian was obeyed without question, for the Ryn’la House was most noted for Bladesingers, Elves who had learned to merge the martial arts with those of wizardry. Learning the art of magic was one of Chaith’s greatest desires, and while no training would ever be offered to a Tiefling, this did not discourage Chaith in the slightest. Chaith had taken the name of Mageborn, and he intended to do his part in order to glean whatever wisdom he could while serving House Ryn’la. While Chaith was offered a meager salary, he was allotted a small house on the outskirts of Ebonveil. With his servant’s wages he was able to eventually wed his love, Helena. Their partnership was a happy one, and Chaith gave thanks and praise to the goddess Enzypia. Eventually, Chaith and Helena gave birth to a daughter, and they named her Leah. The Tiefling’s life was comfortable if not perfect, but it seemed that as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end. A Daughter's Lantern One afternoon, despite his weariness from a hard day’s work, Chaith made a stop at a small trinket shop. His intent was to purchase a gift for his daughter. Alas, to his dismay, most of the dolls were of Elven girls. While browsing, a flicker of light happened to catch his eye. The light emanated from a beautiful lantern hanging from the door and Chaith inquired about its purchase. Slightly bemused, the shopkeeper sold Chaith the lantern and some Elven candles (which the Elves claim last longer). With his daughter’s present, Chaith continued on his way home. As he neared his home, the night seemed darker and colder. There was an unusual quiet as he passed an open window. Perhaps the baby was sleeping, perhaps he was too far away, or perhaps his wife and child were playing a game. As much as he wished with all of his heart that these things were true, he knew in his bones that something was terribly wrong. He raced to the door and opened it. His heart skipped as he stood in the doorway, looking in horror at the scene before him. On the ground lay his wife and child motionless. Chaith quickly ran over beside his wife and was relieved to see that she was still breathing, but she was unconscious, suffering from the lingering effects of a sleeping spell. Chaith could feel the telltale signs of magic, which those attuned could often sense. However, when Chaith turned to his daughter, he knew she was dead. Her lips were violet, and her skin was cold to the touch. Chaith stroked the little girl’s hair and ran his fingers over the tiny nubs on her forehead that would have one day grown and spiraled into the strong and powerful horns of adulthood. But this was never to be. Some believe that Tieflings cannot cry due to their demonic ancestry. On this night they were proven wrong. As the melancholy days passed, one question burned in Chaith’s mind: who could have done this? The question replayed over and over, consuming every moment of the day. It was a mystery. The only clue left by the assailant was a necklace that his wife Helena managed to tear free from the attacker. Due to the sleeping spell, Chaith’s wife could not remember any details from the fateful night. Though he had faithfully served the House of Ryn’la, it was impossible to ask for an investigation. Chaith was not one of them. As Chaith lay comforting his wife at night, he could not help but furtively gaze at the mysterious necklace. He knew it was somehow the answer to the question that haunted him. Master Gen'tai's Council A few days later while Chaith was working in House Ryn’la, preparing carcasses for a great feast, he was greeted by an Eldarin named Fen’lo Gen’tae. Unlike many of the other High Elves, Master Gen’tae had similarities with Chaith and had become a friend. In a sense he was an outsider too. It was considered an honor for him to be trained under House Ryn’la as a Bladesinger. Master Gen’tae never treated Chaith as a slave as some of the House Elves were want to do, ordering Chaith to complete one bizarre task after the next which Chaith was obliged to cheerfully endure. It was in Fen’lo that Chaith confided the knowledge of his daughter’s murder. Fen’lo accompanied Chaith home and examined the scene. The skilled Bladesinger unsheathed his sword and held it out like a divining rod, searching for hidden clues. The blade vibrated deeply over the spot on the wooden floor where his lifeless daughter had once been. Fen’lo confirmed that the girl had been killed by a necromantic spell, one which had sucked the life out of her without leaving a physical trace. It was then that Chaith produced the necklace for Fen’lo to examine. It took only a few seconds for the Elf to make out the sigil dangling from the chain. His expression was forlorn. The necklace almost certainly belonged to a wizard trained at The Magirium, an arcane school in the city of Stormwall, across a very treacherous sea known as The Stolen Divide. Chaith had been convinced the murderer had been an enemy of House Ryn’la, but what reason would a foreigner have to journey all this way to kill an innocent Tiefling girl? Fen’lo acknowledged that the order of the Magirium did barter with some of the Elven Houses for magical items, but he was at a loss for how the clues connected. If the killer was an arcane wizard, there was only one hope for Chaith, he was going to have to travel to Stormwall and attempt to infiltrate the Magirium. If he could join their order, he might be able to track down the killer. Then he would send the culprit to their eternal slumber. The Undertaker's Thirst for Revenge Is Unquenchable There is a saying, “The only man who profits from revenge is the undertaker.” If Chaith knew of this saying, he ignored it. Before resigning from his post serving under House Ryn’la, Chaith stole a decorative sword from the estate grounds. Even a decorative sword was deadly if it once belonged to a Bladesinger. There were little words spoken between Chaith and his grieving wife. He was not sure Helena would wait for his return. He was too weak to stay. He lost himself in the search for Leah’s killer. It was the only thing now that offered him purpose. With what little savings he had, Chaith gained passage aboard a cargo ship named Willemetta’s Bust, captained by Fargo Nash, a human with more facial hair than Chaith had ever seen. Aboard Willemetta’s Bust, Chaith served as the ship’s cook. Having never been on open water it was difficult for him at first, and he was plagued by bouts of seasickness. Bent hurling over the ship’s side railing, Chaith could often hear the bellowing laughter of the captain. Eventually the Tiefling found his sea legs. Though the ship was not crewed by Elves, the humans were still cautious around Chaith. Chaith tried his best to join in with the exchange of quips and jibes, but his mind was lost elsewhere. The captain often wondered why in the name of all the gods the Tiefling would sit up at night looking into the light of a lantern, but not wanting his food to be poisoned, he left the cook alone about it. More than two week at sea had past when an unwelcomed report came from the crow’s nest: “Storms ahead!” The Divide Rages The Stolen Divide was justly named. Even the experienced sailor feared the journey. Wealthy merchants always insured their cargo. For the unwealthy merchant, a lost ship could mean the end of a career. The storms raged so great that a massive wall was constructed to shield the land from the sea. Thus the city of Stormwall was named for the stone barrier that climbed up into the clouds. There are many tales and legends regarding the violent storms of the sea, but for those who sailed The Divide, it seemed all too clear that the gods themselves were responsible. Chaith hid himself inside the galley, while the crew waged battle against the merciless storm that was soon upon them. Even over the thunder, Chaith could hear the captain shouting curses into the storm. Chaith was no coward, but he did not wish to learn the ship’s limits. Into the storm the ship sailed. Chaith’s seasickness returned. Through the storm the ship pressed on. Chaith had no nautical knowledge, but prayed to Enzypia that the captain be granted clear sight and mind, for it almost seemed like the human had a death wish. For hours the captain would stand under the pouring rain. The image of water dripping from the captain’s beard will be forever burned into Chaith’s mind. Despite the bobbing of the boat and the crashing of waves, Captain Nash never lost his balance. For days the crew battled against the storm, until dark black clouds soared above them. The captain shouted curses at his crew as they had drifted off course. Quickly they all sprang into action, attempting to correct their heading. Despite their best effort, it was too late. The boat was battered by the most intense seas known in all of Prynh. Planks of wood tore themselves free of the deck. A large tear streaked across the sail. The captain quickly ordered the men to stow the sails, but working against the storm was near impossible. Without warning a block and tackle snapped free of the lifeboat, sending the small craft across the main deck. Seeing what had happened, Chaith raced from the galley without thinking and pushed a crewman aside just before they would have been crushed. Getting back up, Chaith now noticed why the man had been distracted in the first place – another member of the crew was tangled in a mess of lines, dangling from the footropes across the topsail-yard. The crew attempted to rescue the sailor, but they could not overcome the storm. Instead of joining the others, Chaith raced back inside and returned with a meat clever. When the captain saw what Chaith was doing, he barked orders at the Tiefling, but Chaith could not hear him, nor did he want to. Chaith summoned all of his concentration. The cleaver rested in Chaith’s hands like an arrow rests in the bow of a Wood Elf. Chaith timed the throw with the rocking of the boat and then loosed the clever. The knife spiraled through the air in a straight line while the boat rocked back and forth. The blade seemed unaffected by outside forces, only obeying the wishes of its master. Perhaps Chaith had learned more from the Bladesinger than he had ever let on. As the clever neared the entangled sailor, the boat ebbed so that it looked as though the knife would miss entirely, but at the last moment the boat bounced back, and the blade sank into the hempen rope that strangled the sailor’s neck. The clever passed clean through without resistance. Luckily the sailor grabbed onto another line before falling to his death. He was saved. With the loss of the lifeboat, the weight of the ship had been altered, shifting it back into its proper heading. Perhaps the gods had been watching over the sailors after all. No one can really ever know their true intentions. As the crew brought the poor sailor inside, the storm seemed to quiet and the dark clouds dissipated. It was only now for the first time that Chaith learned that the young human sailor that had nearly been hung was in fact the son of the captain. From that moment on, things changed not only for Chaith, but also for Willemetta’s Bust which never was threatened by storm again for the remainder of the journey. Chaith and the captain quickly became friends, and the captain amazed Chaith with all of his sailing adventures. Stormwall or Bust When the ship finally reached Stormwall, it was almost hard to leave the boat behind. The captain gave Chaith a beautiful flask, which he had won while gambling in Whenwhile Wealth, a city across The Glimmergloom Sea. Chaith thanked him for the gift. It was now that the captain asked his new friend what it was that he was doing in Stormwall. Chaith however was not altogether forthcoming, saying that he was searching for something. Seeing that the topic was a sensitive one, Captain Nash reminded Chaith that if he didn’t find what he was looking for in Stormwall, there was a place aboard ''Willemetta’s Bust ''for Chaith. With that, they parted. Chaith entered the city, and after a few conversations with the locals, he found the way to The Magirium, academy of the arcane. Two black spires shot up into the sky, connected by a walkway halfway up. He could not see the tops of the towers. To him they appeared to fade into nothingness, or perhaps he was tired and they were merely covered by clouds. He had been long at sea. Chaith did his best to regain his composure. He had a role to play. And if he was successful, he would soon find the name of his daughter’s killer. AdventuresCategory:Heroes The Weaver's Revenge (In Progress) Act I: The Investigation Once Chaith Mageborn arrived in Stormwall, he made his way straight from the docks to the front door of the Magirium. The entry exams came easily, whatever meger arcane knowledge he had to this point was due in part to watching his masters in Ebonveil ply their own. But if there was any suspicions that Chaith had some natural talent in him, the first few tests he was given had confirmed it. The Magirium, being a school of arcane learning, saw he was a quick study, despite a lesser knowledge than many of the applicants and he was given a dormitory and a list of beginner classes. By hiding his bladesinger's sword Jen'e'tai away in his dormitory and forcing himself to concentrate solely on the arcane arts of a Wizard, he was able to capably convince the college that he was there to learn. It wouldn't take him long to pass through these courses and gain enough repute to garner the attention of his professors, perhaps especially the Eladrin professor, Soleren Andra'stae. He was soon chosen to take the beginner's final lessons. If he had the mind to, Chaith could move up the academic hierarchy by passing these trials. Of course, the Tiefling had a different reason for being there. However, with the trials passed, he would be given more freedom to roam the grounds of the Magirium which would make it much easier to find what he was truly looking for. Information on his daughter's murderer. The being chased across the Stolen Divide. The trials proved easy for Chaith, perhaps in choosing the Mageborn surname he had been prophetic? Soleren guided him through his tasks and in each he excelled. And with them behind him, he was finally free to begin the investigation into the Magirium and its part in the tragedy he left in that cabin on the outskirts of Ebonveil. A secret room in the library, evidence of demonic rituals, a halfling named Zednic Portu. The investigation of the Magirium proved fruitful. Zednic Portu, a magic user with necromantic leanings, was in Ebonveil during the time of the murder. His dorm and secret room in the Magirium's library has ample proof of demonic activity. It was all there, but where was this Halfling? The man at the top of the Magirium, a famous Gnomish Sorcerer named Faleek Woozlebottom, would know. After speaking with Master Andra'stae, Chaith made his way to the grand master's office. The eccentric Gnome took him in and while off-kilter, he was inviting and attentive. The problem was obvious, and the pieces all began to fall into place as the conversation at the top of the tower fell from the Gnome's lips. Zednic, a once struggling student, had suddenly seemingly become a much better magic user. He had successful captured a very strong demon in a stone of arcane power. This feat was not something to be taken lightly, such power put Zednic in a place to finally become a Scholar of the Magirium - the Magirium's expeditionary graduates. These Scholars were sent on missions on behalf of the Magirium of varying types, difficulty and importance. While technically a graduate, Portu had not been deemed worthy of the esteemed role to that point. But with his new power, he was immediately given a position among the Scholars and a task. It made sense, Faleek said, while it was strange that Zednic had become so much more adequate at his arts, but it wasn't the first time a student had finally found what he was missing and become an adept user after years of struggling. Zednic had been a model student, despite his ineptitude, the grand master had been happy to see him succeed. But if the evidence pointing towards him being involved in a child's murder were true, then it could not stand. Woozlebottom supported Chaith's investigation further by giving him an official task from the Magirium to follow Zednic Portu and figure out what was going on, on the stipulation that Chaith give him a chance to explain himself, give him justice rather than revenge. Zednic was on his way to a large town to the South of Stormwall known as Crowley's Grave - a three day travel. Rumors of cult activity had come about in the town and the mayor had sent for help from the Magirium on the matter. Act II: The Spear & The Sword The night's sleep was sluggish for Chaith Mageborn. Never more than an hour a time before he was awoken by some terrible nightmare. His daughter's cold, pale face. Zednic Portu's shadow looming over the body of his unconcious wife, Helena. Visions of hell, demons, dragging away his daughter's spirit. When morning finally came, he was happy to end the attempts to traverse these nightmare landscapes, and doubly glad to be back on the trail of the murderous Halfling. With his things gathered for the long journey ahead to Crowley's Grave, Chaith made his way from the dormitories to the entrance of the Magirium and opened the large and heavy doors to the outside world. The Magirium was positioned in an enchanted forest known locally as the Saltwood which stood within the very walls of Stormwall. It was a strange thing, a forest inside a city, but its visage was as enchanting to look at as its very nature. The gruff apprearance of two soldiers, clad in heavy plate armor and large spears were most certainly out of place as they waited patiently outside the Magirium doors amidst the strange natural surroundings. Hal Markstrom, Sargeant of Stormwall's famed Harpoons, accompanied by Dupont Mastwind - an up and coming Leiutenant. The Harpoons, elite soldiers of Stormwall's military, stood seemingly waiting for Chaith. The grizzled veteran Sargeant speaks, letting Mageborn know that he is to be escorted to his objective by Dupont. Chaith, not caring what sort of context there is in this mission as long as his thirst for vengeance is quenched, happily accepts the skilled soldier on his journey. While quiet, Mastwind seems to have a good head on his shoulders, lacking the common zealous outlook that many dedicated soldiers might have. And the journey is fairly uneventful. A stop in the small town of Haven, the two meet the Trags, two halflings, husband and wife, and the defacto leaders of the small farming community. The Trags were happy to let a Harpoon and his Tiefling companion stay in their spare room over night and it made a difference in the second leg of the three day trek to Crowley's Grave. When the Orcs ambushed them, the extra rest in the soft beds came in handy. With the help of the highly honed killing machine that is a Harpoon, Chaith dispatched the small group of Orcs fairly easily. The rest of the day was smooth and the party arrived in the mining town of Floodwater with only a few minor scrapes. Dupont proved himself well-versed in the tactics of the Orcs, something about patrolling the central marshlands of Crimshan. Floodwater, a mining town with a high turnover rate, near the mountains known as the Gallows, a low survival rate. Dwarvess and others proficient in mining, blacksmiths using the rare metals found in the Gallows, and a few people who have made Floodwater their permanent home. The inn, known as The Cutler & The Judge, was shabby and not entirely welcoming, but a nights rest was easy to acquire for the duo from the Dwarven barkeep. The morning came too soon for Dupont, though Chaith saw sleep only as an unfortunately necessary waste of time on his mission. The morning was wet with the night's dew as the two made their way back onto the Twinbay Pass and continued what they hoped would be the final day of travel before arriving in Crowley's Grave. And with the exception of the ever-pompous Paladins, the journey was fairly straight forward... On the side of the road, during the midday, the two adventurers came across a large camp gathering of who seemed like Paladins and Clerics. It would seem an argument was occuring among a few of their rank, but when approached they seemed adamant that the Harpoon and the Bladesinger Tiefling move along. And so the heroes obeyed and continued their travel South. It was midnight when the town came into view, it's city lights dimming as most of the inhabitants had long since began to turn in for the day. The typical smells of town began to fill their noses; smoke, fish... life. Act III: Crowley's Grave Wee Wiggle Tavern - Chaith may have found the moniker of the inn he slept that night in humorous if he wasn't focused on the task. Or perhaps it was the nightmares that had haunted him every night since his daughter's death that wiped away the intricacies of the waking world. Revenge was like dirty spectacles in that way. The inn was a much nicer establishment than their last stay back in Floodwater, Dupont was sorry to leave its safe, warm walls. Chaith, of course, was happy to be awake again - sleep was like a prison, six umbarable hours every night, six hours that the trail would cool. The town of Crowley's Grave was unveiled to them for the first time fully in the sunlight of the early morning. While the town was small compared to Stormwall, it was much larger than Haven and Floodwater, perhaps one day this town could grow to be as prominent as Stormwall, or even the mega-metropolis of Marsippi on the southern continent of Farsight? The bustle of the morning was potent in the streets, Humans, Elves, Dwarves and even a few more rare races made their way to and fro along the paths of their daily routines. People selling thier wares cry out to the passing audiences, the sound of a hammer clanking against an anvil rings in the distance, city guards in chain mail armor with green and white tabards adorned with what looks to be a dragon skull in the center of them patrol the streets. One of these green-adorned guards, part of the city guard known simply as "Southwatch", gave the two directions to their next destination; the mayor's mansion. Lady Alballie Lindross, the human woman who took the mayor's mansion as her home when she won the title from her predecessor in the elections, had only just began to show the signs of age in the last few years. Her dark black hair is generally messy and tied back in a pony tail, despite her stature as leader of this large town. Wearing a brown dress with a billowing skirt and a tight tunic, her slender feature is that of someone who likely had a worker's upbringing. The house wasn't particularly ornate, but its two stories and fairly large grounds denoted its importance well enough. And if it wasn't clear already, the guards stationed outside the door likely would have rammed the fact home. Explaining that they were from Stormwall, and the Magirium, the guards let Chaith and Dupont pass. The inside is a homeley country house, every wall has multiple windows which are only covered by sheer white curtains, many are billowing from the breeze cascading in through the open window they half-way obscure. In a den of sorts, they find the fair mayor and she is happy to see more help being sent by the Magirium. Zednic had arrived only days prior and while he hadn't been heard from in a day or so, she had assumed that the mission was going on as planned. Instructing the heroes to talk to the town guard, a Half-Orc named Captain Lugar Bloodhand. Dupont would later find himself begrudgingly waiting by the front door after their pleasant communique with the Mayoress while Chaith lurked around the mansion looking for clues. The Tiefling found clues that perhaps the house had been spied on, though neither were sure what this really meant. Perhaps it would become clear later, but not knowing who they should trust in this town, Chaith decided to keep this information to himself as they made their way to the Southwatch Office, headquarters of the town guardians. The receptionist was cordial enough, allowing the Magirium investigators to head down the long hallway behind the reception desk that would lead them to their next person of interest. The captains office, guarded by a simple brown wooden door at the very end of the long hall, stood ajar and within was the gruff half-orc they sought. Quite a diverse administration this city seemed to employ. Lugar briefed the two newcomers of the situation - Zednic, thier halfling predecessor and Chaith's quarry, had gone into the Warehouse District seeking out the Cultists that the Magirium had sent him to root out for the town. He had not been seen or heard from since. With missing people near the district and strange sightings and noises being reported from within the grid-like maze of Warehouses near the docks, Lugar told them everything he knew and everything he had told the Zednic Portu. The Warehouse District? People taken from their homes near it? Perhaps their was a real problem with the occult here in Crowley's Grave after all. Perhaps the Warlock they called Zednic was here to perform his Magirium task? Chaith and Dupont departed with the intentions of finding out. What they would find certainly answered some questions, but perhaps created more than it conquered. It was hard for Chaith and Dupont, unfamiliar with the layout of the town, to know exactly how many large wooden warehouses stood in the district, but it felt like hundreds as they passed through row after row of large wooden structures. The entire area smelled of fish guts and in the midday, it was quite busy with dock workers and others who used the warehouses largely to store fish or mercantile goods they needed to keep safe. After all, Crowley's Grave was a very popular place for merchants to stop for the night after either arriving in the ports on their way to Stormwall, or leaving Stormwall to head back across the sea to the south where Marsippie and the continent of Farsight stood. Crowley's Grave, thanks to the dangerous nature of the storm-ridden Stolen Divide, was a very popular gateway to Crimshan for those who could afford to avoid the sea and make the voyage to Stormwall by land, by way of the Twinbay Passage, the long road that stretched from Stormwall all the way down the coast to Crowley's. Perhaps the duo should have thanked their favored deity that it was noon, the busiest time of day for the the docks and more critically the warehouses, because when the area went quiet after entering a certain section of the district it certainly stood out and caused pause. It was a beacon, most certainly, as they quickly found upon further investigation, that the area was under guard. The guards were motley, and perhaps effective if they hadn't been facing a Bladesinger and a highly trained killing machine that was the Harpoon leiutenant. Today they were not so lucky. The few guards that watched the exteriors of this section of warehouses were dispatched quietly and quickly. And inside each Warehouse they decided to investigate they found various manner of cultists, often performing demonic rituals, using the anonymity of the Warehouses as their private devilish holy grounds. Small red-skinned demons, called Imps by their masters, clawed at them as they pushed on, clearing Warehouses one by one. Where there weren't these ferocious little creatures there were more guards and powerful mages who bent dark magic to their wills. At the end of the row of warehouses stood a final, unsearched storage unite. But Chaith had seen something earlier that had pried at him, a body lay bloodied on the floor of one of the previous Warehouses. The windowframe had crumbled, wet and old, in his hands leaving him to enter the front door and announce his presence if he chose to clear it. So at the time, the men had bypassed the warehouse and moved on. But the anonymous and clearly mangled form could not be ignored. The guards, playing a card game of some manner and perhaps a bit drunk, had put up a fight. But with the help of a healing potion, Chaith had managed to stabalize the being. The halfling, none other than Zednic Portu, Scholar of the Magirium, awoke from the edge of his infinite demise to the sight of a Tiefling and a Human peering down at him. The next moments, perhaps some of the darkest of Chaith Mageborn's life, layed out in stuttered, nervous and regret-filled words from Zednic's mouth. Still on the edge of death, he told the tale of communications with a demon who promised him power if he could travel to Ebonveil to summon him. Using a particular vessel to summon him into this world, a young Tiefling girl. The demon, known only as Xanladin, had tricked the Halfling. Zednic yearned to become a Scholar, a graduated student of the Magirium who was hand-selected to go on excursions for the Magirium itself. But he was inept, while he graduated eventually from his courses, he was never adept enough to be named a Scholar. And so he sought to prove himself to the High Arcanist and the other professors. What better a way then showing his masters that he could bind a powerful demon? Common practice among many magic weilders, and while often looked dowm upon by much of the world as unsavory, in the Magirium such acts were merely means of acquiring powerful tools. Of course, Xanladin was a liar, as many demons are. The child died in the process of bringing the powerful being into the mortal plane of Prynh. What could Zednic do but leave and hope things blew over? He was indeed naive and filled with sorrow over what transpired. But with vengeance in his very soul, a quick strike from his honed sword arm ended the Halfling's life for good. It costed Chaith a poition, that much was certain, but did it cost something else too? Perhaps a piece of him died with that foolish halfling. And aftering such a harrowing event, it was undoubtedly hard to move on and continue the mission. But there was one final warehouse to clear, they had come this far after all. And where was this Xanladin who had left the foolhardy master to die on the floor of a dirty warehouse? Inside the final warehouse they found the pinnacle of the known occult threat in Crowley's Grave A cultist with such power that he opened a gate to the very depths of the hellish planes that the demonic call home. Imp after Imp poured forth from the fluctuating hellgate. The power he held over the planes would ultimately be his undoing. Forcing him to use his full power to keep the gate open, this left him defenseless when the redskinned Tiefling ran him through ending the threat. At least, that's what they thought. A trail of blood leading to a sewer grate hidden beneath a large wooden crate seemed ominous, but first they needed to update Lugar on what they found. Lugar, of course, was disgruntled when they arrived, but would be doubly so after the two laid out the tale of the Warehouses before the guard captain. Chaith made sure to also explain his suspicions that the Mayor's house was being spied upon too. Bloodhand assured the two that he would post extra guards for the mayor and would send men to clean up the warehouses, and in return Chaith and Dupont swore to check the sewers. Not wanting to waste time, the two made their way back to the Warehouses and to the strange grate. Easily entered, the swordsman and the spearist found themselves ankle-deep in a rancid smelling water. The rounded tunneled hallways of the sewers were what you might imagine and might hope to never experience. The combination of smells was a medley of feces, rats, fish guts and a faint touch of saltwater.